Immemorial
by Akane Arihyoshi
Summary: Love isn't something you're allowed to have. So why can't you be strong enough to let him go? Akuroku Day piece.


Title: Immemorial

Author: Akane Arihyoshi

Disclaimer: Characters portrayed in this fanfiction are not owned by the author. The words themselves are not necessarily owned by the author either, but the author reserves right to the order the words are placed in.

Warnings: Abrupt ending. This isn't to say it's a cliffhanger, but the artistic abruptness may leave some readers feeling like the story has been unfulfilled. (Sorry, but that's just how the story plays out.)

* * *

You love him too much to tell him.

It kills you, really, it does. You feel the fiery spirit leaving you in bits, and it's scary. But you can't tell him. Because _what_ would you tell him? It's better unsaid.

It's forbidden, it's love. Love isn't something you're allowed to have. And so you keep your mouth shut, wishing and dreaming for a day that will never come unless you _let_ it, the one thing you can't do.

And it's all very frustrating, but that's life, you tell yourself, and move on.

At least, you think you do. Until suddenly you can't stop thinking about his eyes. His eyes, of all things, but they really are pretty, aren't they, and you can't get them out of your mind. His _eyes. _Crystal blue, sapphire, cobalt blue, and you can't think of a word for their color, that vibrant color that you're (_damn_ that imagination of yours) starting to see in your dreams.

And then you see him, and he turns and waves, and you just can't help yourself, can you, but you wave back like an idiot until you remember and rationalize it carefully in your head until it's all reasoned out, that gesture, and you can't remember its original purpose. But what's wrong with you? You've never felt like _this_ before. You've never _felt_ before, have you? And this is all very new to you. How do you know what this is? How do you identify it? It could be hate. It could be rage, it could be anger, it could be jealousy, and you'd never know, would you?

But you _know_ it's not. This is a _good_ feeling, a _happy_ feeling. You like being around him, it makes you feel calm, safe, secure. (But why? You've never felt those either.) And suddenly it's not just his eyes, but his whole face. You start seeing it in your dreams, that inane expression on his beautiful features. You start to wonder what it would be like to…

To be a person.

And Pinocchio was right, wasn't he? What you wouldn't give to be a real boy. But there's no fairy godmother, no kindly puppeteer. There's no ball gown or pumpkin carriage, and you know you're mixing up your happily-ever-afters, but you'd give your life to have just one of them. You feel like you're in the wrong fairy tale, one where Cinderella didn't finish her chores, and Sleeping Beauty is never going to wake.

And it's not fair. You feel like a child, complaining like this, but it's _not_ fair. And it's not _fair_ that it's not fair. You hate it. No matter how much you long for it to go away, banish the thoughts from your head, it lingers like a bad taste in your mouth. You're stuck with this.

It's not just when you're around him anymore. It's all the time. You're finding it hard to concentrate on some things-most things, almost everything that doesn't have to do with _Roxas_-and it's dragging you down. You can't do anything anymore, especially if he's there. Your boss is eyeing you warily, he knows something's wrong.

And you know he doesn't care, he's just looking for an excuse to get rid of you. You know he wants to, after that stint at Oblivion he knows how dangerous of a man you are to rub shoulders with.

And you know what? Even that doesn't bother you in the slightest. You're becoming reckless. A while ago, you jumped in front of _him _to save him from a fire spell. (It didn't affect you, of course, but you shudder to think what could have happened. If you'd been somewhere else. If it had been an ice spell, you would have died.)

But when you see him again, you remember nothing about it, because it _doesn't matter._ All that matters is blonde hair blue eyes, and that gorgeous smile he sometimes gives you. You find yourself doing stupid things just to see it, and later you berate yourself, but at the moment all you can think about is him, and everything else goes away.

Except the pain. The driving pain dragging you down from all angles. That never goes away.

But…

The thing of it is, it _does_, once in a while. If you play your cards right. There's enough of those sometimes to make it all okay. The days when Xemnas is exhausted but won't admit it, and forgets to give you your mission slip. And then you do a slip of your own, right out of the room and into the first bar you can find on whatever world the corridors of darkness lead you to.

Alcohol dims _everything_. That's something you can remember in a health class, about ten years back. It clouds your judgment, fogs the mind, but the thing that sells it for you is that it makes you feel so _happy_. Like you can go out and do anything, which is _exactly_ why you don't let Roxas come with you. (You don't want him to remember you like that.)

But after a few (dozen) drinks you feel differently. Happy. In an extra special good way. And you stumble around and crash into things cheerfully, slamming your fist on the bar and telling the man there you need another shot, but he can't understand a word you're saying, it's so slurred.

And those are the good days. Sometimes you get sent on a mission with him. A lot of the time. Damned if you two don't just work together perfectly, the real duo. And those are the bad days. You think they could become good days, if you'd just let them, but you can't. You really can't.

Sometimes, when you know he's asleep, and you're well on your way there, you dream about things you know can't happen. You think about what it would be like to have him with you as more than just your partner, as more than just your best friend. It calms you to think of it, because they're such happy thoughts. And sometimes, if you don't concentrate, they slip into your dreams and you fall asleep with a smile on your face. You dream about what it would be like to hold him and never let go.

But then when you wake up you realize that you're a sentimental fool with dreams of things that will never happen, and you want to die. You realize that you're pining over a young boy who knows nothing of the world and nothing of love, and it makes you hurt even more.

You're trying to find ways to avoid him now, because you can't stand to be around him. He'd notice. You can't stop staring when you're around him. It's really obvious, and you hate yourself for it, but you can't stop it at all. Damned if he isn't a perceptive little thing (but you love that too, you're such a fool.)

But you know he's starting to notice this separation, the way you stutter out an excuse when you need to leave. He doesn't say anything to you about it, and you can't tell if it's because he respects you, is scared of you, or loves you back; you can't tell which is worse.

Even if he did love you, you wouldn't let him. Life isn't like the fairytales you used to dream about, it's different. You love him too damn much to let him throw his life away for you (but at the same time you long for him to do just that, why are you so conflicted?).

He'd be beaten, maybe killed, and you can't even stand to think about it. You would too, of course, but do you even care about yourself anymore? Is it all him now, or is there a part of you still there?

You're sinking into love like quicksand, and the more you struggle, the more you fall. So you just decide to stop.

You let yourself look at him, and let yourself dream, and hope that by giving up, it will all go away, a last-ditch attempt at a normal life. Your heart (funny, you weren't even supposed to have one of those) is raging war with the rest of you, and you don't like it at all.

So you let him notice, and you stop pretending to yourself that what's there isn't, and just learn to deal with the feelings as they come.

-.:.-.:.-.:.-.:.-.:.-.:.-.:.-

And that's when he starts to retaliate.

It's subtle, just like he is. His hand lingers on your shoulder for just a moment too long. On missions his eyes drag across your body a little too slowly for him to really just be checking for injuries. He gets too close sometimes, you can feel the electricity channeling from him to you from the (wonderful) contact.

But you keep trying to stop him. You'll inch away, pull your hands into your pockets, avoid being alone with him. You send him to do most of the work on missions (even though it kills you), ensuring no struggle when you announce an early bedtime upon arrival home.

And, poor kid, he's getting really confused.

You see it happening, see the inevitable collision from miles away, but you don't try to stop it. You kid yourself that it's just a little infatuation, a stupid kid's crush, he'll grow out of it, you think (ignoring the way your heart breaks on every word.)

And it doesn't happen. For months. But the thing about _doesn't _is that it can easily change into _does_, and one day you hear a soft knock on the door to your room, which is both odd and welcome, because anyone else would have just taken the portal in, door and all.

He walks in without waiting for an answer, because he knows you're there (where else would you be but with him, and he was alone.)

And even though he doesn't show it, you can tell he's really pissed.

"Axel, you busy?"

You shrug noncommittally and pretend to go on reading, which is absolutely ridiculous because he's not an idiot, he knows you hate reading.

"I think maybe we should talk."

You look up and raise your eyebrows at him all coy and cool, pretending you don't know what all this is about. "Yeah?" you drawl lazily, leaning back in your chair (the one you stole from the Beast's Castle about three years back) and tossing your book haphazardly to the floor.

"That is to say, I think I should tell you something."

Now this is a turn. What could he possibly have to tell you that he thinks you don't know?

And Roxas, you have to give the little guy credit, he looks you straight in the eye and sets his chin in that haughty way Sora used to when he wanted to look all serious (except on Roxas it kind of gives you chills), and says the most ridiculous thing you ever heard with a complete solemnity about him.

"Axel," he says unwaveringly, "I think I'm in love with you."

And you can't decide if you should burst out laughing, shake him until he takes it back, or just lean over and kiss him on the spot, so instead you just absolutely lose it.

Your eyes are wide and your mouth is gaping open, and he just plows right on, ignoring your stunned face and curled fingers.

"So now the obvious question is, what you're going to do about it. 'Cause I could have just not told you, but I think you need to have the option, and if you're okay with it then that's great, and even if you're not, and never want to see me again, that's fine too, you know? But I needed to tell you, and sometimes I think that you feel it too, except you're always pushing me away and I think maybe I was wrong." He stammers on like a bulldozer, and suddenly you realize he's just as nervous as you are, and he's not hiding it well, poor thing, he's _just a kid_.

"I just can't stand it anymore, Axel! I can't go around thinking like this and not knowing if you'd even care! It's-"

"Roxas," you breathe, "we can't."

He stops dead in his tracks and his eyes soften to that emotionless expression he wears so well, the mask you thought you might have cracked, and he nods. "If that's the way you feel," he says softly. He turns around to go but your hand reaches out and grasps his arm, pulling him back. Roxas stumbles a little and nearly trips, and you didn't mean to pull him quite that hard, but this is important, damn it, and he needs to stay and listen to the whole thing.

"You don't understand," you say wearily, and his eyes flicker over to you.

"What in the world could I possibly not understand about this, Axel?" he says quietly, and you can hear the hurt in his voice. Typical teenage arrogance, your mind supplies, he thinks he can understand everything. "I told you, and you don't want me. It's not rocket science."

"It's not that at all, don't you see, Roxas?" you plead, letting go of him only to reach for his hand. He flinches, but you hold on.

"It's not what, Axel? I'm so confused. I thought-" he stops, biting his lip. Against your better judgment you extend your free arm and pull him closer to you so that his head is resting against your chest in an awkward sort of embrace.

"We can't do this, Roxas," you say miserably, holding him against you. "We can't be caught doing this. You idiot, how could you even think that this wasn't what I wanted?"

His grip on your hand tightens. Pushing you away slightly, he looks up into your eyes (poor guy is at least a foot shorter than you.) "And why the hell not?" he says angrily.

And that's when he leans up and kisses you.

You forget for a moment just why you shouldn't be doing this. Why this is a bad idea. Actually, you think you may have forgotten your own name as you slip into a wave of bliss, doing the one thing you've wanted to do for the past goddamn _year_.

Close enough, at least.

But as your grip around him tightens and your eyes flutter closed (like the goddamn _girl_ you're turning into), there's just that one part of you in the back of your head, the one that's always being such a bitch, saying, _Don't do this, you'll regret it._ And even though you seriously wish you could just be the teenager you never got to be for half a second more and be a little spontaneous for once, you pull back and push him away from you like you've been burned (which is really a funny metaphor, you think.)

"Don't do this to yourself, Roxas," you whisper.

He tilts his head back and looks at you full on for a moment, that lingering look in his eyes that always makes him look a bit older than he really is. He shakes his head slowly.

"How could I ever think," he says, "that I could live without you?" You stare at him blankly as he sobers gradually, wincing when he takes your hand and looks at you with that irritating _understanding_ he does, like you're some sort of child.

"And how could you think," he continues quietly, "that you could ever stop me?"

And you think maybe that's the moment you can pinpoint as the moment you grew up, a little, and the moment you understood yourself better than you ever had and ever will again. A moment of blinding clarity that brought the dim world into focus for just a second, a universal truth you knew and lost.

It was the moment you became happy.

* * *

A/N: Happy Akuroku Day. 8/13/10

~Akane


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